


Forever is Composed of Nows

by mischianza



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, Mentions of Curufin - Freeform, Moderately Happy Celebrimbor, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 08:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12884169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischianza/pseuds/mischianza
Summary: When his father and uncle are expelled from Nargothrond, Celebrimbor locks himself in the forge for what appears to be days at a time. This can't be good for his health, and it is understandable that certain Elves are becoming worried. Tea is the most obvious solution.





	Forever is Composed of Nows

**Author's Note:**

> I am very attached to the idea of a happy Celebrimbor, and evidently the only way to achieve that even for a short amount of time before Narvi enters the picture is to invent another Elf so he doesn't need to deal with all that family drama alone. Oh well. 
> 
> The title is from Emily Dickinson (number 690).

A knock came at the door. “Celebrimbor? Are you in there?” He set his tools down and tried to speak louder than a whisper. 

“Come in.” Morhened entered softly, holding a basket. “What is that?”

“You’ve been in here for hours. I was worried you aren’t eating.” Celebrimbor looked up in surprise and ran to embrace him. He hadn’t wanted anyone to worry, not exactly, but he occasionally forgot that at this point some people would be worried if he did not appear for long periods of time. And it was true: he had forgotten to eat. How long had it been? 

Morhened spread a blanket on an empty section of the table where Celebrimbor had been working, setting out a selection of food and a pot of tea. He poured some for Celebrimbor and kissed his cheek. “Drink this. You need it.” Celebrimbor accepted the cup eagerly. “Eat something, too.”   
They ate in silence. Finally Morhened quietly offered an idea of the outside world: “Your father left today.”

“He is not my father.”

“Yes, I know. But you chose to stay. You’re free.”

Celebrimbor put his head in his hands. “I wish it were so.”

 

(It had been a long while before he had spoken of the Oath. Of course it was common knowledge amongst all who associated with them, but Celebrimbor waited until he was feeling particularly brave to offer the specifics of it. In fact, if he recalled, Morhened had been the one to ask, when his father and uncle were first seen as treacherous. So he obliged, and explained the relevant history as far as he knew it, pausing many times to stress that he had been very young and much of it was still unclear to him. Later he thought that he only had the courage to say it because Morhened had not been looking at him the entire time; rather he had also been absorbed in making small spice cakes, some of which they had taken upstairs with them once the story was over. How had it come to that? Oh yes: “Stay with me,” Celebrimbor whispered. So he went with him to his chambers and they lay beside each other, the cakes on a small table near the bed. “I just want to…I mean, I don’t…I don’t want to be alone just now.”  
Morhened nodded, pressing their foreheads together. “Let’s stay like this, then.”)

 

Celebrimbor was not aware he was so much in his own thoughts until a voice brought him out of it. “The sun set a few hours ago.”

“Oh!” He had truly not known it was so late. Perhaps it was time to return to his chambers, though that area of the stronghold would now be almost uncomfortably quiet. 

“Would you like to stay with me?”

Celebrimbor gave a soft smile. “Yes, I would.”

“Come, then.” Morhened took his hand and they walked down narrow corridors. Celebrimbor was not exactly certain what he was feeling—he was not free and never would be, regardless of his break from his father, but perhaps there was some relief in knowing that he would never have to see Curufin again. 

 

It was much like the night they spoke of the Oath: they faced each other on Morhened’s bed, uncertain. “Here.” Morhened reached up to the short braids on either side of Celebrimbor’s face. He focused on one in particular, removing the bead and slowly running his fingers down the braid, unraveling it. He kissed Celebrimbor deeply. 

“I don’t deserve you,” Celebrimbor murmured. 

“I think most of the kitchen would argue that I don’t deserve you.”

“Well, they certainly didn’t like my presence there at first.”

“They were only worried that you would be a distraction. Most of us had never seen anyone of the royal house, except from quite far away.” Morhened moved away slightly, attempting to undo his own braid, which was evidently proving rather difficult. 

“Allow me,” whispered Celebrimbor. “You removed mine so elegantly—it’s only fair.” Morhened turned around. Celebrimbor paused for a moment, attempting to understand the braid’s construction. “This is some interesting engineering.”

“You can blame my sister for that,” Morhened said, a smile in his voice.

Celebrimbor laughed for the first time that day—or indeed the first time in quite a while. “No, I commend your sister! I’m not certain I could accomplish this as well as she.” It had become evident to him that in order to keep as much of his hair out of his face as she could, Morhened’s sister had formed a large braid out of many smaller braids, tied with leather strips in place of beads. “I believe my uncle once tied his lover’s hair this way.”

“Your uncle…the one here?”

“No, my eldest uncle. I have not seen him in quite some time.” 

“Ah.” 

Celebrimbor busied himself untying leather and taking down Morhened’s hair. “I apologize for the amount of time I’ve spent in the forge of late…I’ve meant to braid your hair many times.”

“Never mind my hair! I’ve missed your company more than your admittedly skillful hands.”

“Mmm…skillful, you say?” Celebrimbor kissed the back of Morhened’s head. At that, they sat in silence until Morhened’s hair was entirely free of its constraints. “There.”

Morhened leaned against him. “You didn’t have to stay. I’m glad you did.”

He glanced at Celebrimbor, who was undoing his other braid. “But that won’t save me. Nothing will.”

“I know.” 

“Morhened…” Celebrimbor was looking at a fixed point on the wall. “I don’t think it will save you, either. If I understand everything correctly this dooms you as well.”

“That cannot possibly be true.”

“And I wish it were not!” 

Morhened, moving quite slowly so as not to alarm him, wrapped his arms around Celebrimbor. “I would think you’d only improve things by being better than your father.”

There was a silence. Finally Celebrimbor spoke: “Yes, I suppose so.”

Morhened stroked his cheek. “You need rest too.” Celebrimbor nodded his assent, and Morhened blew out the candle. He kissed Celebrimbor’s hand. 

 

Celebrimbor awoke as the soft early morning light was coming through the window, and found his hand tangled in Morhened’s hair. He hoped the movement would not wake him: indeed Morhened’s only reaction was a soft “Mmm” before he returned to sleep. Here, in this room, in this light, he could easily forget the previous day, forget the entire situation with his father, everything. He only wished it were that easy.


End file.
